


What a Dream, Far, Far, Away With You

by tommythedankengine



Series: Tommy the Dank Nuke: a Horrifying and Regretful Collection [1]
Category: Political RPF - North Korean 21st c., Political RPF - Russian 21st c., Political RPF - US 21st c., Thomas the Tank Engine & Friends
Genre: M/M, Other, america is gone, humanxnuke, humanxtank, it's sfw but idk if you'd want anyone to catch you reading it to begin with, kim jong-un is only referred to as rocket man sorry, prompts, putin has a castle, sorry - Freeform, this is really weird, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommythedankengine/pseuds/tommythedankengine
Summary: i'm... sorry?thanks carley for the prompt."We [America] get nuked by a flying Tommy and Putin is so amazed by his work that he falls in love."SO VERY UNEDITED DON'T SHOOT





	What a Dream, Far, Far, Away With You

**Author's Note:**

> i'm... sorry? 
> 
> thanks carley for the prompt. 
> 
> "We [America] get nuked by a flying Tommy and Putin is so amazed by his work that he falls in love." 
> 
> SO VERY UNEDITED DON'T SHOOT

Following the orders of the masterful plan by our lord and savior Rocket Man, Tommy the Dank Nuke has now blown up most of the east coast in his cross-ocean-and-continental nuclear missile state. Putin watches from his golden prince castle in Russia, amazed at the shear handiwork. 

 

* * *

 

 

Putin sits with his legs crossed, hand on his chin, chest bare for the world to see. He’s not cold - he never is - but there’s this… chill in the air. Bleak, sullen silence. He’s not sure what to think. The golden walls of his castle glisten around him, shining with the sweat and tears of his many slaves… uh… workers who spend their days cleaning them. This is one of the rare moments he has alone.

 

The footage reel plays on the golden screen in front of him, a mere 5 feet from his person. It’s set up so he can see every angle with perfect clarity, no pixel out of place. On a giant 152 centimeter by 203 centimeter screen plays the end of the world. Well, not for him. Just for millions of people. But, of course, that’s not what draws his eyes. 

 

It’s not the millions getting blown up by a spectacle nuclear weapon, no, but the actual weapon that’s done it. His practiced eye notes the subtle decoration and the thought put into the masterfully crafted weapon.

 

New York, gone.

 

Washington D.C., gone.

 

Atalanta, gone. 

 

All of Florida, gone. 

 

The west coast was spared the ravishing, as the sender cares far too much for avocados. If Putin has sent the weapon, he decides, he would’ve made sure to blow up California first. There, now they don’t need water. Putin laughs softly and his eyes return to the glorious specimen in front of him. 

 

Tommy is his name. 

 

“I guess that’s why they call him Rocket Man,” Putin mutters before using his hands to zoom and enhance in on the model of… Tommy. Just the name sent shivers down his spine.

 

It all started earlier this fine winter’s day. Most of Russia was already up and running when the announcements that  _ something _ had struck New York City began to filter through the tightly watched Internet. Of course, as supreme leader of Russia, Putin knew immediately what had happened, and felt only a miniscule amount of terror. He was Putin. He could handle this. 

 

America, by the way, was in disarray. They were down several million in population almost immediately, including the president himself. Currently, Speaker of the House Paul Ryan was being sworn in as president, due to both Mike Pence and Donald Trump being blown to smithereens in the initial impact. 

 

At this moment, though, Putin isn’t thinking about how he is now able to take over America if he so pleased. He’s thinking about getting his manly hands on that bomb. That Tommy. That… uh… Tommy the Dank Nuke. He’s not sure why Rocket Man chose to call him that, but he lets it go; it’s a manly name for a manly bomb. Putin shivers. 

 

For all intents and purposes, he’s fallen completely in love with this Dank Nuke. It’s more than love, he thinks, it’s true love.

 

He  _ must _ meet Tommy.

 

“Barbara!” he barks, tearing his gaze away from the holy man on the screen to face the nearby doorway. ‘Barbara’ hurries in, cheeks red from the cold and the embarrassment of seeing her boss—no, supreme leader—shirtless. “Barbara, I need to meet this man.” He points to the screen.

 

Barbara scurries over and peers at the screen. “Sir,” she begins, “with all due respect, my Holiness, that’s a nuke.” Putin slams down his hand, causing her to jump.

 

“ _ And _ ?” he shrieks. “You do as I say. I want to meet this  _ m-a-n _ .” 

 

Shaking violently and her eyes wide in terror, Barbara nods her head quickly and jumps for the door. “Yessir,” she says just as she’s about to disappear from sight.

 

“Hurry!” Putin yells after her. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. I am in love with this man.” 

 

Another, “Yessir,” floats down the hall, and Putin sits back in his seat with a sigh of relief. Tommy, here he comes. 

 

* * *

 

It takes a record 10 minutes for Barbara to get ahold of the man...nuke, whatever.  _ I should give her a raise _ , Putin thinks, then laughs out loud.  _ Him _ , give  _ her _ , a raise? Preposterous! Regardless, those thoughts are overswept the second he hears the soft theme music chime from down the hall.  _ Do-duh-da-da… _ He grins widely, knowing this was the last thing most Americans heard before their untimely doom.

 

Quickly, he adjusts his thinning hair and puffs out his chest a bit, putting on an award-winning smile. Tommy will be his before this meeting is over. The chugging gets progressively louder with each passing second, and Putin’s heart rate speeds up even more. This is the moment he’s been waiting for since he saw this… god… on screen. He hopes, inexplicably, that Tommy likes him. 

 

A dark shadow overtakes the doorway and he can’t breathe. Here he is! Putin’s internally squealing. Manly squealing.

 

A deep, rumbling voice rings out, “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” and Putin damn near creams his panties. 

 

“Y-Yes,” he squeaks before clearing his throat and repeating, “yes. Come in.” And the dark mass does just that, he enters with such suave that Putin sucks in a breath.

 

He. Is. Gorgeous.

 

Tommy is tall, with a wide, smiling face, a blue shirt, and gorgeous wheels. Oh, the rims; the things he would do to those rims. He looks even better than when he was on the top of the nuclear warhead. Putin isn’t sure what to say, but thankfully Tommy speaks first, in that gorgeous baritone of his. 

 

“So, you wanted to see me?” 

 

Putin nods. “I… I do.” He speaks hesitantly and isn’t sure how to address this god that’s standing (well, rolling) in front of him. “Ever since I saw you this morning, I couldn’t get you off of my mind. You’re… well… for lack of better words… gorgeous.”

 

And, thankfully, this god chuckles. “Thank you. Today was my best work. I’ll have to thank my creator, and boyfriend, Rocket Man. He gave me the pep talk to pull through.”

 

“Boyfriend?” Putin squeaks. He tries to not let the disappointment show on his face, but inside he’s crushed. Why does Rocket Man get all of the goods! Blowing up America, this fine man… it’s not fair!

 

“Yeah,” Tommy says casually, “ever since he brought me to life… well… it’s been good between us two. Is that all you wanted from me?” 

 

Dejected, Putin nods and watches in silence as the god he was blessed with’s presence recedes, chugging softly down his plush hallway without another word. Putin sinks into his seat, tears in his eyes. And today had been going so well!

 

He’ll just have to build a Tommy of his own. It will be better than  _ Rocket Man’s.  _

 

He swears to that. 

  
  



End file.
